


i bleed when i fall down

by pennyone (LostChanceTo)



Series: who's gonna catch me when i fall [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Damian Wayne is Red Hood, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reverse Robin AU, Stray AU, Terry McGinnis is Batman, Tim Drake is Catlad | Stray
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23330818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostChanceTo/pseuds/pennyone
Summary: In the aftermath of the Joker's death, Tim and Damian both struggle to regain control of their lives. Damian flees Gotham for Metropolis, unable to handle the strain of staying in the city that hates him. Tim remains in Gotham and discovers a secret that was never meant to be discovered.(Summary subject to change.)
Relationships: Jonathan Samuel Kent & Damian Wayne, Maya Ducard & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent
Series: who's gonna catch me when i fall [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552462
Comments: 17
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi im bACK
> 
> i'll do my best to update regularly guys, but cuz im updating as i write, that means i'll be updating one scene at a time rather than two or three scenes in one chapter. i have no idea how long this is gonna be, so. . .
> 
> this fic starts directly after do falling trees still make noise ends like literally this starts the next morning
> 
> ages:  
> terry is 23.  
> damian died at 15, but currently is 18  
> maya, maps, and suren are 18  
> jon is 19  
> tim, steph, cassie, and bart are 17  
> cass is 13
> 
> yeah i think that's it so far? enjoy!

It was strange to see Timothy like this again. Strange to be sitting at Damian’s (new) kitchen table, strange to watch him dip his bread in cream and honey, strange to watch him eat. It was strange.

Sunlight came through the curtains, lighting a halo in Timothy’s hair, bathing him in golden light. Damian’s fingers ached to find a paintbrush and paint him like this, settled at the table, still a little banged up, but at ease in his own skin in a way Damian hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Three years.

Three years of fighting, of survival, of training regimens and sleepless nights, and now it was strange to eat breakfast with his best friend.

His closest friend. His only friend.

Which made what Damian was about to do much harder.

“I’m leaving,” Damian said, his harsh voice breaking the peace of the morning. 

Timothy paused, food half way to his mouth, before he slowly lowered the bite of food. His expression hardened, jaw grit, eyes narrowed. His cheeks weren’t puffy anymore, Damian realized, they didn’t look as full and soft anymore. He hadn’t noticed.

“You just got back,” Timothy said.

And maybe it was unfair of Damian, but he loved seeing Timothy like this. Loved seeing the focus in his eyes, the soft furrow of his eyebrows as he puzzled out whatever was going on around him. The glow of his pale skin, the shine of his hair. Bright. Vibrant.  _ Alive _ . 

“I know,” Damian said. Timothy clenched his teeth. He had that habit back then, too. Whenever he was emotional, Damian only had to look over to see the solid set of his jaw.

That was another thing Damian loved to see. Timothy’s solidity. He was - he was bigger now. Stronger, now. It showed in the coil of his muscles when he crossed his arms over his chest. It showed in his posture, the way he stood. The clothes he wore.

“You’re leaving,” Timothy said. Damian nodded. “But what about. . .” he paused, uncertainty settling into his face. Once Timothy had gotten his bearings, Damian hadn’t seen that expression so often. After the first year, Damian hadn’t seen it at all. “What about us?”

It took a couple seconds for Damian to puzzle out what he meant but then. . . he allowed himself to consider it.

What it would be like to wake to Timothy’s face every morning? To hold his hand, to lean on him when times were rough? To cook him breakfast in the mornings and come home to Timothy’s butchered attempts at dinner? To say his first and last words every day to Timothy?

What would it be like to get married?

What would it be like to fight with him? To argue and get angry and - and what would it be like to feel the Pit surge up inside him to attack Timothy? Could Damian do that? Could he feel comfortable allowing the Pit any power over him in regards to Timothy? If they were together?

No.

“I’m sorry,” Damian said and Timothy looked away, face crumpled with what looked like anger but could have just as well been pain. “Dear one.”

“What.”

Damian wanted to reach for his hand, wanted to latch onto those long, scarred fingers and never let go.

“Every member of my family has betrayed me,” Damian said, “from my mother to my father to my brothers. You’re the only one who has fought for me, in both life and death.” Timothy raised his head, pain still on his face, but calmer now. His cheeks were a splotchy red as he stared at Damian. “So. Thank you for doing what no one else would. What no one else could.”

_ The Joker. _

Timothy’s bottom lip trembled, jaw clenching as he lowered his head again. “I fell into a depressive state and threw away everything you’ve ever taught me.”

“And yet yesterday saw you fighting by my side, as though no time had passed,” Damian said. Timothy sniffed, hand coming up to rub harshly at his eyes.

“I let Steph take Robin,” he said, voice breaking over the words.

“I doubt even I could’ve stopped her,” Damian said, “she’s a force of nature.”

To be completely honest, Damian could barely remember what she’d done yesterday. So much of the fight had been lost to the Pit madness and the adrenaline and the terror pounding through his skull. He knew she’d been there, because he had heard her pleading for Timothy to stop. But he couldn’t remember much other than that. He hated it.

For a long while, Tim was quiet, and in his quietness all Damian could think of was the burning, itching sensation in his chest. The need to run. To get away.

It was hard to think around it. It was like a low level buzzing in his heart, like the pit madness but small scale and more annoying than dangerous but one thing was clear - Damian had to go. He had to. He couldn’t stay here, with his failed plans and the clear memory of Terrence fighting him like a common criminal and - and -

“I killed you,” Timothy rasped. He hid his face behind his hands, shoulders shaking violently. “I -”

“You didn’t,” Damian said. He stood and made his way around the table to pull Timothy up and into his arms. Timothy put up a token resistance before he clung to Damian, shaking like a soaked kitten in the rain. “It was the Joker who killed me. And even if you had, I forgive you.”

“How can you say that?” Timothy yelled against his chest, struggling weakly, “how can you fucking say that?”

“Dear one,” Damian said, just hugging Timothy tighter. “Dear one, I forgive you.” Timothy shook his head but stopped fighting to just sob in his arms. Damian clung tighter to him.

In all honesty, Damian didn’t really remember dying. The last thing he really, truly remembered on his deathday was seeing Timothy get dragged out of the room they kept him in. The look in his eyes, the gun in his hands, and then there was a rush of heat and noise and unbearable pain and then. . .

And then Damian was waking up, alone in confused in a pine box. 

“You’re an asshole,” Timothy mumbled, pulling away to wipe at his face. Damian waited just long enough to make sure Timothy could stand on his own before hurrying to the sink for a cup of water. He handed it over to Timothy, who gulped it down.

“Yeah,” Damian said, unsure of what else to say. It was awkwardly late, he really shouldn’t have said anything, but it made Timothy’s lips twitch up in a smile. He was still crying, just a little bit. Tim had never been much of a crier, but. . . But even this expression suited him.

  
They both paused at a knock on the door. They exchanged a glance - and then Tim headed for the bathroom while Damian made for the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Tim stared at his reflection in the mirror, gathering his wits. He really hated crying. And in front of Red Hood? In front of Damian? 

_ Ugh. _

He lowered his head, taking deep breaths as he listened to the front door open. There was a lady at the door - Tim could hear her speak, but the thin walls muffled just enough sound that he had no idea what she was saying. Tim turned on the water after a second. If it was important, Damian would tell him once he’d stepped back in.

Until then it was just him, the bathroom, and the raw, empty hole in his chest.

Tim had - Tim had really - the Joker was -

Tim didn’t think he’d processed it yet. The actual event was blurry in his mind. He knew he’d done it. He remembered pulling the trigger but the rest of it was uncertain.

He kinda liked it better that way, in all honesty. He didn’t  _ want _ to remember. The same way he hadn’t wanted to remember what happened in Ethiopia (although that was ingrained in his memory). He’d slept like the dead (ha! like the  _ dead _ ) earlier, and he was afraid of dreaming.

He turned on the faucet to splash water on his face. The cold water shocked him for a moment. Tim sighed and turned off the faucet. Damian’s towels were gray and shabby looking. Tim grinned as he dried his face and hands. It was scratchy.

Damian had hated the soft, plush towels at Wayne Manor back when they were kids. He’d only ever used the less fancy, scratchier ones. It seemed some things never changed, huh?

With another steadying breath, Tim shoved his various emotions into the back of his head and stepped outside of the bathroom.

The lady was still there, standing in the living room with Damian - and Tim was surprised to be able to say he recognized her. He smiled and walked over. His approach caught their attention and they turned to him.

“Maps?” Tim said. She gasped, her smile lighting up her face like the sun.

“Tim!” She yelled. Tim laughed and swept her up in a hug. “It’s been forever!”

Mia Mizoguchi, otherwise known as Maps, was one of Damian’s closer friends back when he was in high school. Not close enough to know about Robin, but close enough that he willingly spent time with her outside of school hours. Tim didn’t know the details of their friendship, since he was a year younger than both of them, but if Damian trusted her, so did Tim.

“It has,” Tim agreed as he let go of her. She was beaming, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. Tim had always liked her energy. She was always happy, always helpful, at least from what he knew. And she loved a good mystery. “I didn’t know you knew Damian was here?”   
  


“He’s the one who showed up at me and Kyle’s door,” Maps said, arms crossed over her chest as she shifted her weight. “We live downstairs.” She cast a very suspicious glance at Damian and tugging Tim closer. “I thought he died,” she whispered.

  
“He did,” Tim whispered back, “and then he came back to life somehow and went to live with his mother. And now he’s back.” She hummed, eying Damian, who watched them both with a little smile. He was wearing a shirt now, this too tight black shirt that showed off every curve of his upper body.

“I hate Gotham,” she concluded with a sigh, but here eyes were sparkling now, “you have no idea what I’d give to find out what exactly happened.”

“Oh, same,” Tim said. They grinned at each other.

Damian sighed, “didn’t you need something, Mia?”

“Oh,” she said, brushing some of her short black hair over her shoulder, “right. There was a lot of yelling and screaming last night. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine,” Damian said. Tim vaguely disapproved of him saying that, but he literally would have said the same thing and therefore had no room to talk.

“Yeah, I figured,” Maps said, “I was just worried. Of course, that doesn’t explain why all the furniture in here is new.” Tim raised an eyebrow at Damian, who raised an eyebrow at her.

“Felt like trying something new,” he said.

“Then why is it all in the exact same spots as the old furniture?”

“I don’t like change.”

“Oh my god,” Maps groaned, “are you sure it had nothing to do with the screaming? I would’ve come up during the screaming, but Kyle wouldn’t let me. Something about not being able to fight?”

“He’s right, you can’t fight,” Damian said with a little shrug, “Silverlock can fight. You? No way.” Maps stuck out her tongue at him.

“You’re mean,” she said. Tim laughed.

“This is him being nice,” he pointed out. Maps turned on him, expression shifting into a grin that would’ve fit better on Lois Lane’s face.

“Say, you know Dami pretty well,” she said and Tim grimaced.

“Sorry, the Tim machine broken,” he said, backing away, “gotta go home and recalibrate.” Maps laughed and shook her head.

“No,” she whined, but Tim was already grabbing his pants and shoes from the floor next to the couch. He wiggled into his pants as Maps pouted. Tim had totally forgotten she had freckles, but there they were, now that he was looking at her.

Tim turned to Damian, who was just standing there, watching. “Do you need anything before you go? I can go get it for you, just gotta drop off my stuff,” he said as he wiggled into his shoes. 

“You’re going somewhere?” Maps said, head snapping around to stare at Damian. He winced and nodded. “Oh, where to?”

  
“Uh,” Damian said, expression twitching in that minute way it did when he had to tell a lie and hadn’t thought of anything yet. “I have this friend out in Kansas? Hamilton County. I’m going there.” Did he mean Jon?   
  


“Actually he moved to Metropolis,” Tim said as he picked up his bag. “You sure you don’t need anything?”

Damian nodded and waved him off.

Tim headed out, closing the door quietly behind him. He didn’t go out the normal person way - down the elevator and out through the lobby. Instead, he headed to the opposite end of the hallway, where there was a window.

He jiggled it open and leaned out, wrestling a facemask and a grappling gun out of his bag. Tim tugged the mask over his face with a glance over his shoulder at the empty hallway. He adjusted his grip on the grappling gun and aimed.

The rush of air on his face felt freeing, as it always did. Except it also reminded him of last night and Tim really couldn’t afford to think about that right now. It was distracting, and if he was too distracted then he’d end up as a smear on the pavement and how would that help anyone?   
  


It was broad daylight too. There was a general sort of agreement between the bats to keep daytime appearances to an absolute minimum. Not that Tim was a bat anymore. He could never be a bat again. He had to find his own way, now. Separate from Terry, separate from Bruce and Duke and - and  _ Steph _ . 

To be honest, that kinda hurt. Even when they were on bad terms, he knew eventually there was a chance they could be friends. But she’d seen him murder the Joker. The only witness to his worst crime.

Second worst?

  
Whatever. Tim flew for a safehouse. He didn’t feel ready to go home yet. He didn’t feel ready to go home and see his mother. What was he supposed to say to her?  _ Hi, I’m back, I killed the Joker and made the world a safer place, how was your night?  _ Tim didn’t think so!

He’d just keep to himself for now. He still hadn’t decided if he was gonna go to school yet. Probably not.

And Damian. . .

Tim stopped on the roof of a corporate building and turned to stare out over Gotham’s skyline. He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing at the goosebumps that had risen on his skin from the rush of frigid air.

Damian was leaving. Did he really matter?

  
  


(he did)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love eating breakfast at noon, how about you guys?
> 
> thanks so much for reading, dont forget to leave me a comment or kudos, they really make my day!!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter involves a Very Stressful encounter with what appears to be highway patrol
> 
> if that's not your thing then just know that Damian's mother wants to speak with him and he's being driven there by her personal guard

Damian chewed on his nails, hating himself for the return of such an unsightly habit. The freeway in front of him was crowded, cars occasionally honking with their drivers’ annoyance. His heart was pounding in his chest. The low level anxiety had been building all day. From the moment he’d told Timothy he was leaving, from when Mia had shown up, from when she left and Damian fled like all the hounds of hell were on his tail.

She’d been worried, once the door closed behind Timothy. No more than she usually was, but enough that it had shown on her face. Damian didn’t have any answers for her. He couldn’t pull anything convincing out of his throat. It had clogged in the face of her honest concern.

Mia had always been good to him, even as children. From the moment he’d met her - she’d kicked a ball through the glass of the principal’s window while he was inside, getting a speech about Gotham Academy’s record for straight-laced business children - she’d been unflinchingly kind. There were times he hadn’t been able to keep his anger and fear and angst inside and she’d bore it all with grace.

She was the first person he’d ever told about Robin, outside Timothy and Stephanie. True to her word, she’d never told a soul, even when he’d died.

He didn’t want to know what kind of strain that put on her.

_ “Are you ok?”  _ She’d asked quietly. Damian had paused in his awkward shifting to look at her properly.

She looked paler than she usually did, freckles and dark circles showing up just that much darker. Her arms wrapped around herself, short sleeved button down wrinkled and stained around the hemline. Her jeans were just barely clinging to her skinny hips, one leg cuffed and the other just kinda crumpled up. She was still wearing her slippers, little bunny ears bouncing with every step.

She’d probably rushed up at the first opportunity. Had she even slept? How badly had last night scared her - scarred her?

_ “I’m fine, Mia,”  _ Damian said, matching her tone as he stepped forwards. He took her hands and held them up, close to his chest.  _ “I’m really ok. Just a little anxious.” _

_ “But do you have to leave? You were just settling in again,”  _ She said, delicate features pulling into a frown.  _ “You were happier.” _

_ “It’s not ideal,” _ Damian said,  _ “but if I have to stay here for one more minute, I’m going to go insane.” _

She’d looked upset, but had just nodded. She’d tugged her little hands out of Damian’s bigger, calloused ones and pulled him into a hug. It wasn’t like the one he’d given Timothy. Mia ran warm and her hugs, although it was rare for Damian to get any from her, were always short and comforting. 

She didn’t like to linger, too used to constant movement. He was the same.

Damian leaned over to grab his backpack from the backseat. It was light - empty aside from a laptop and some snacks. Everything of value was in the trunk of the minivan. Damian pulled it into his lap and unzipped it, eyes scanning the traffic for movement.

It looked like it was clearing up a little bit ahead. It’d probably be a minute or two before Damian’s minivan gained enough room to start going at 30mph again instead of inching forwards.

Damian tugged out a bag of chips. Flamin Hot Funyuns.

He’d hate himself for them later but right now? Damian could forgive the lapse in judgement. They tasted good.

And they relieved some of the need to munch on his nails. He was Damian al Ghul Wayne, the Red Hood, there was no reason he should be biting his nails till they bled. What would his mother say?

Damian eased down on the gas as the freeway opened up around him. He was heading out of Gotham, but not towards Metropolis. He was aiming for the Midwest. There weren’t many vigilantes out there, and even less supervillains. Damian just. . . 

The rage was curling between and around his ribs. There was a hollow spot there, one that he was only just realizing Timothy had filled. The anger was pooling into it, making him burn with emotion he didn’t know how to explain. Leaving Timothy behind was a mistake. Trying to leave without him was a mistake, but Damian couldn’t just uproot Timothy’s whole life around him.

Going off on his own was a mistake, but the anxiety was making everything worse. The miles between him and Gotham grew with every minute as he picked up speed, rushing to get away from the nightmare that was the last few days.

Damian eased up on the gas. He was going too fast, he’d get pulled over at this rate. And then? The pit was already sparking through his limbs. He didn’t know what he’d do if he got pulled over. He probably wouldn’t be civil, he knew that for sure. He had a Gotham license, too, they might send him back and -

His skin crawled just thinking about it. 

A van pulled up next to Damian - he glanced over at it.

Highway patrol.

The driver was staring at him through his sunglasses as he flashed his lights.

“Motherfucking -” Damian swore, but turned on his blinkers and moved right. Highway Patrol followed him. Damian had his license, sure, but he didn't have the car’s insurance or registration papers or anything. It was a stolen car. They’d know the second they ran the plates. But he did have a trunk full of weapons. He didn’t know how much that’d help right now, but it was what he had. 

Fuck, all Damian had wanted was to get out of the city. His heart was pounding in his chest.

He pulled onto the shoulder and rolled to a stop. They’d pull up the plates of the van and figure out it was stolen any minute now. They’d stopped not too far behind him. Should he just hit the accelerator? 

One of them was walking towards his car now. The other remained in their vehicle, head down. Shit. It was too late now to go, anyway. He would just have to deal with the problems as they came up. He kinda regretted taking the car now - should’ve taken the van like he wanted, even if it was more suspicious. At least one of his men owned that fucking van.

Damian rolled down his window when the officer knocked. He stared out at traffic. It’d take a couple seconds to grab his gun in the glove compartment. The pounding of his heart was drowning out his thoughts. He’d have to move fast.

“Young prince,” the officer said, leaning down. Damian’s head snapped around.

The officer pulled off his sunglasses to reveal a  _ very _ familiar face. 

Crooked nose, thick black eyelashes, light brown eyes, a light scar that traced up the side of his jaw, high cheekbones and chubby cheeks faintly covered in stubble, one of Talia’s personal guards smiled down at him. He had never given Damian his name, but he was one of the few Damian had trusted to guard his door through the night.

“Old friend,” Damian said, slumping back in his chair, roaring in his head easing. “You scared me. I don’t have documents for this car.” The man laughed, scratching at the back of his fade cut. That was new. At the compound he had long hair, usually hanging loose around his shoulders. 

“My apologies, little prince,” he said, “but I needed to get you to pull over somehow. We’ve been looking for you.” Damian raised an eyebrow.   
  


“Have you?” He said. Now that he was looking closer, it was clear that the cop uniform was both fake and cheaply made. He wasn’t even wearing slacks, just dark wash jeans.

“Yes,” he said, “your mother requires your presence.” Damian sighed, gaining another smile filled with straight, white teeth. “Cheer up! I heard you achieved your objective. Move over, I’ll drive you to her.” He reached into Damian’s car to unlock the door. Damian glared but opened up his door.

“What about your partner?” He asked, gesturing at the Highway Patrol car behind them both.

“Oh, he’s passed out,” the man said as Damian stepped out. Damian did a double take. “What, my Prince? Did you think that he was one of us? No, I just hijacked his car and job.”

“Oh,” Damian said, wincing. His mother’s guard laughed again. He was a jovial fellow outside the compound. Inside, smiles and laughter were few and far in between. Damian especially hadn’t known joy in there. The guards had each other, and he knew they were softer towards one another, but none of that trickled down to him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. Damian made his way around the car with a dismissive wave. 

He climbed into the passenger seat, ignoring the way his skin burned just from proximity with someone else. This man had a different sort of. . . energy than Timothy or Mia. Brighter, louder, and far more invasive. Damian had to remember that he still answered to Talia. He couldn’t trust him with much more than his physical safety, as familiar as he was.

They buckled up and the guard started the car again. He eyed the bag of Funyuns smooshed into the cupholder between the seats. Damian narrowed his eyes, daring the man to say something.

“If those aren’t completely crushed,” he said, “can I have some?” 

Damian sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry my mental health's currently in the shitter, which is why this took like two months
> 
> acab and stay safe everyone, i'll see you next chapter


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m back!” Tim called as he entered Drake Manor. His mom’s head popped out of the living room entrance, big smile spreading across her face. Tim sighed in relief at the sight of her.

Tim had grown up pretty much on his own, doing his own thing, taking care of his own self. But even so, seeing his mother still comforted him on some level. The best times of his life had been when she was with him - his eleventh birthday party, that vacation when he was nine, that one time she and Jackson came home early and got to spend a week at home when he was thirteen. And she was still his mother. He loved her.

“Welcome back,” Janet said, “you look like a mess.” Tim sniffed at his armpit, grimacing at the stink. “Yeah, go shower.”

“Hi, Tim!” Ms. Winter said, coming out into the hall. Tim did a double take, pointing at her. She ruffled the back of her hair. “So, I stayed the night.”

“Gross,” Tim said, wrinkling his nose. She blushed, arms waving in front of her defensively.

“Not like that! We were in separate rooms! It was just late enough that it’d be weird to go back, you know?” She said. Tim shrugged, but he got it. “Did you come back at some point? You didn’t leave with a bag last night.”

“Yeah, I was home for a little bit,” Tim said, “but I had to head right back out.”

“And how was your surveillance thing?” Janet asked. Tim shrugged.

“Speaking of surveillance, can I talk to you?” Ms. Winters said. Tim glanced over at his mom, but nodded. He followed her into the kitchen, Janet heading back into the living room, presumably to watch TV.

“What’s up?” Tim asked as she sat down at the kitchen table. He took the seat across from her, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest.

  
“It’s come to my attention that your mom neglected you as a kid,” Ms. Winters said quietly, “and honestly, I dunno about dating her now that I’ve learned that. I wanted to know what you felt about it?”

Tim stared at her.

She was willing to drop this whole relationship if Tim gave the word? Is that what she was saying? She was willing to break up a perfectly healthy relationship with her (supposed) girlfriend, just because Tim didn’t want them to be together?

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Tim decided on. Ms. Winters sighed and leaned forwards to rest her arms on the table.

“I want you to say whatever it is you want to,” Ms. Winters said, “and I want to know if it’s really ok for me to date her, in your books.”

“It’s not my business what you and her do,” Tim said. Which was true, for the most part. He’d never been privy to his parents’ business. It wasn’t like they’d taken great pains to hide it from him, but they’d never really talked to him about whatever was going on in their lives. The obvious implication there being it wasn’t his business what they did. He assumed this extended to Ms. Winters, because she was dating his mom.

“It is,” she said, “because by dating her, you’re my son too. And I want you to be safe and comfortable and happy and I can’t be sure of that if you’re not, uh, if you’re not comfortable with me, I guess? I know what my own standards are. I know what kind of damage it’ll take to get me to break up with someone instead of hanging on and working to make our relationship together. I guess I just want to know if you really think she’s changing. And if you think she’s a decent person.”

No adult had ever asked Tim’s opinions of his parents. The adults who did know, Tim had told them all on his own. He’d made the choice to trust them and talk about it. Bruce, Terry, Catmom, Carrie, Harper, Duke, he’d told them all on his own. He didn’t really know what to feel about being asked.

(Ms. Winters was willing to consider him her son?)

“I think my mom’s one of the most ruthless people I know,” Tim said quietly. Ms. Winters nodded. “And I know that she didn’t have a very good marriage with my father. I didn’t have a good relationship with him either, but it’s whatever now, he’s gone. Um.”

He didn’t know what to tell Ms. Winters. She was really - she looked like she was hanging off his every word, eyes focused either on his face or on her own hands on the table, like she was trying to give him space despite her curiosity.

What was there even to say?

  
“When I saw her when she first arrived home,” Tim said, “she was really cold. Still the same mom who demanded perfection from me, no matter what. But that same night she told me she had been a terrible mother and wanted to rectify that. She’s been. She’s been slowly opening up to me. She never did that when I was a kid. There.”

Tim took a deep breath, glancing up at Ms. Winters. She was frowning. 

“There wasn’t any emotional connection there, I don’t think,” Tim said. Ms. Winters’s frown deepened. “At least not on her part. There’s some there now. I don’t know if she wants to befriend me because she’s my mom and feels like she needs to or because I’m older now and can hold a proper conversation with her in a way kids can’t. I just know that these last couple weeks, she’s been here for me. She trusts me, I think, and we’ve talked a lot.

“She’s not cold, so much as blatantly herself, now. I really only ever saw one or two sides of her as a kid. I’m seeing a lot more now. She’s. She’s a real person now, and not just my strict mother, so.” 

Tim was running out of things to say. He shrugged at Ms. Winters, gesturing vaguely at the air. “I don’t know what you want me to say about your relationship. In all honesty, I’m kinda just glad Mom’s here now and I’m thankful I get to have a relationship with her at all. She hasn’t been back for too long, so I don’t really know if she’ll go back on what’s she’s said, but she hasn’t betrayed me yet.”

“Do you expect her to?” Ms. Winters asked quietly. Tim shrugged again.

“I think,” he said, before Ms. Winters asked anything else, “that she’s spending too much time thinking about my father. And I think that you, well not distract her from him, but you make her feel better. It’s too early to say for sure, but she’s been pretty happy about getting to date you. If it were up to me, then I’d rather you two stay together. It’s your decision, of course, but I don’t think you should break up over it. She knows she’s done wrong by me. It won’t help to have you break up with her.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Ms. Winters said. Tim smiled a little. “One more question? Do you like living with your mom?”

Did he like it?

Well, he certainly didn’t like having to live so far from Gotham, but he liked that she knew about Stray. He liked that she still supported him. He liked that she made him pancakes that one time and living with her was like living with a kinda overbearing roommate. 

“Yeah,” Tim said quietly, smile growing, “yeah, I like living with her. It’s fun.” Ms. Winters smiled as well, straightening up in her chair.

“Thanks for telling me,” she said, “and - oh, actually! I have one more question.”

“That’s a lot of questions,” Tim said, laughing. She rubbed at the back of her neck. 

“Yeah, I know,” she said, “but I have to get to know you as well, don’t I?” Bold words for someone speaking to someone who spent the last couple years ignoring any and all stimulus because his best friend in the entire world had died. “So, like, and this might be weird to hear, but what do you want from me?”

_ “What  _ does that even mean?” Tim said, blinking rapidly. Ms. Winters thought that over for a second.

“I want to know what kind of relationship you want to be in with me,” she said, “like you said that your mom was trying to befriend you - which isn’t the same thing as trying to have a mother-son relationship. So, going along those lines, do you want a mother-son relationship with me? Or do you just want another friend, I guess?”   
  
“Oh,” Tim said, shifting in his seat, “oh, that’s certainly a question. Um. Can I get a raincheck on that, actually?”   
  


“Yes, of course,” Ms. Winters said, standing up. Tim stood as well. “You can tell me whenever you like. Actually, here, I should give you my number.” Tim pulled out his phone and unlocked it, handing it over to her. She input her name and number into his contacts and handed back his phone with a smile. “Text or call me whenever. I’ll always be free for you.”

  
“Thanks,” Tim said, a little uncertain. He took back his phone and smiled back. “I’ll tell you when I figure it out.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling, “now go up and shower, you look like you need it.” Tim snorted and brushed past her, heading for the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boom i've updated 
> 
> thanks for reading so far please kudos and comment i really really really appreciate it


	5. Chapter 5

His mother’s guard brought Damian to a small compound a couple miles outside Bludhaven city limits. It looked for all the world a government building. There were no visible markings or signs on the outside and a lot of Private Property - Do Not Enter signs posted on the chain link metal fences. 

The guard, he still hadn’t given Damian his name, which put Damian at a disadvantage here, got Damian through the guarded gates and into the building with his fingerprints. Damian followed him through a series of white, bland hallways that he carefully memorized.

When they finally reached their destination, the crawling of Damian’s skin had gotten to the point that he knew he was about to have a full on pit driven meltdown. 

It’d grown and grown over the course of the drive here. Despite his cheerful company, Damian’s mood had soured and his skin crawled and Damian had begun to imagine dismembering people. It was a terrible mindset to meet his mother in.

Timothy had cleared Damian’s mind when he was in Gotham. Just being near Timothy had quieted the pit. So, heading towards where Damian knew his mother was waiting, he thought of Timothy. He unscrewed the little jar of good feelings he’d stored in his heart where no one could take it from him and pulled out his memories. 

In his mind’s eye, he explored the contours of Timothy’s face. The sassy curve to his smile. The way he’d looked at Damian last night, beautiful blue eyes burning with a ferocity that not many had the privilege of seeing. The soft way he called Damian, the way he’d held Damian’s hand until Damian fell asleep. The little murmurs he’d made, sleeping on Damian’s couch, the way his eyes lit up when he took his coffee from Damian.

And the pit madness eased out of his chest.

Oh, it was still burning. When did it not? When was Damian not furious? When was the anger weak enough that it wasn’t making him want to tear apart the man in front of him?

But it had receded, just the tiniest bit. Just enough that Damian was sure he could keep his head around his mother.

She lounged at the end of a large room, in a comfortable looking arm chair, looking for all the world like Ra’s al Ghul, before the pit madness began to take him as well. She was dressed in the traditional greens of the League of Assassins, eyes unfocused as she stared out into the distance. She was a long way from the put together woman who had informed Damian of Timothy’s trip to Pakistan.

“Mother,” Damian said, bowing to her. Talia al Ghul’s eyes slowly trailed to him, before she grinned.

“My son,” she said, standing and holding out her arms. Damian smiled and hurried to her for a hug.

He loved her so much. He’d missed her so much, while he was in Gotham.

Growing up, she was the only person he’d known he could trust. The only person who he had ever cried in front of, the only person who’d taken care of him, the only person who’d allowed him to cling to her.

“You killed the Joker,” she said.

“I did,” Damian lied, stepping back from her to smile as viciously as he could. He had to protect Timothy from her. He didn’t deserve whatever plan his mother was coming up with. She matched the smile, something glinting behind her eyes.

Damian didn’t know what happened to her while he was living with his father. The few times she showed up in Gotham, she’d always attacked the man she claimed to love. When Damian returned, brain dead and reduced to nothing but instinct, she’d protected him. But when he rose from the Lazarus Pit, she was someone entirely different from who he remembered from his childhood.

“Who’s next?” She asked. Damian held in a sigh and very determinedly didn’t look away from her.

“None that I can think of,” Damian said. She raised an eyebrow.

“None?” She said.

“None,” he confirmed.

“That can’t be,” she said with a little sigh, “I didn’t train you like this. You made a list of people, didn’t you? I remember that very clearly. You were going to kill every person on that list.”

Scarecrow, Cluemaster, Harvey Dent, so on and so forth, it covered most of Gotham’s criminal element. The Riddler hadn’t been on the list, but that was because he didn’t kill people. Catwoman hadn’t, because Timothy loved her. Damian remembered making that list very clearly as well.

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear that weight. 

He was eighteen and angry and he didn’t have it in him to kill even more than he had. 

He was eighteen and safety had never been an option for him.

He was eighteen and all he wanted was to return to Timothy’s side and sleep until the pit madness seeped out of him and all that was left was the golden light that made up Damian’s few years as Robin.

“I was,” Damian said. Talia narrowed her green eyes at him. Damian raised his chin. “But those deaths take time, Mother, and I’m still recovering. I just fought the Batman yesterday. Last night, actually. You know how devastating it is to fight a Batman.”

“I know how devastating it is to fight  _ my  _ Batman,” Talia said with a little sniff, “the new one has no skill. He’s all gadgets and enhancers and no true strength.”

“If you fought him, you would know that’s not true,” Damian said quietly. Talia waved him off, as she usually did these days. 

“If you say so,” she said, “it’s for the best, anyway, that you’ve returned. The Darga’s are rising up to fight us again - I’ll be needing your strength.”

“The Dargas?” Damian asked. In all his travels, in all his studies, he’d never heard of that name.

“My father has been fighting them for control of the Lazarus Pits for centuries,” Talia said with a little shrug, “it’s about time they regrouped. It’s been about two hundred years since last time they fought.” 

She turned and reached for Damian. He took her hand and she pulled him close, eyes on his face, her expression twisting into a familiar one - she’d used this one against most of the men his grandfather had forced her to seduce. Damian hated this. That it was on her face. That she thought she needed to manipulate him. That she used such an obvious method.

“I’ll be needing you,” she said, “I don’t plan to allow this opportunity to slip me by. My father will be weakened after his win. He’ll be damaged and recovering. I’ll need you then, to stand with me. Will you do it?”

Damian missed the times when all she wanted was Damian to be safe and happy. He hated that things had changed. He wanted everything to go back. He wanted to be a kid again, safe in her arms and in rooms.

He wanted his momma back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was really hard to write tbh
> 
> anyway, please leave me comments and kudos! i appreciate and love each and every one of them! <3

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! dont forget to leave a comment and kudos!


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